


Maybe Today

by cydonic



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Romance, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cydonic/pseuds/cydonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn wants to jump. Rachel wants coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

Quinn looked down. There weren't many people out - it had to be at least ten at night. Even in the city that never slept, there was a quiet time. On a weekend, there might be more activity, but tonight it was dead quiet. Overhead the stars shone, barely visible through the city smog and glaring street lamps. Quinn sighed, watching the night sky for several long minutes. It was beautiful, tainted as it was by human nature. Perhaps she would go up there - become one of those. It was a naive, childhood belief, but in it there was some comfort. Stars, they were perfect - a shining beacon to those who sought them out.

In her hands Quinn gripped the safety railing of the balcony. It was cold, parts of the white paint flaking away under her touch, leaving rusted, shine-less metal behind. She let out a shaky breath, the action helping to steady her thoughts and her body. Her feet rested on a narrow ledge, toes treading nothing but air.

So this was it.

She inhaled, and looked down again. A taxi drove by, followed closely by a pizza delivery car. Once they had passed, there was nothing. No one. It was like the world had shied away, leaving her in peace for these precious few moments -  _last_ few moments. Quinn was completely alone, up there on the ledge of the roof.

She didn't even live there - Quinn couldn't bring herself to do that kind of thing so close to home. It just felt right to pick a random building, take the stairs to the roof, and hurl yourself towards the pavement.

Quinn laughed, mirthless, the sound carried away by the wind that blew past her. Her loose hair fluttered with the movement, caught on the edge of a particularly forceful gust.

Her knuckles had long since gone white with the effort she put into holding her body there, lingering with the living just a few minutes more. Quinn kinda liked it - the whole being alive thing. It wasn't so bad. There just wasn't anything left for her there. No one to come home to at night - lover  _or_  child. She didn't want to leave Beth all alone, but she had her own mother now. Quinn was just the awkward aunty who came by every so often with gifts that left her without food or transport for the week. Whatever money Quinn earned, though, she wanted to leave to Beth. It wasn't much - she would have been a  _terrible_  mother, in retrospect - but anything to help her girl.

There came another dry laugh from her, warm tears making their way down her face. Mascara smudged, a grey line along her cheek, but who was going to care about that? When she hit the ground, would her face even remain in tact? How long would it take them to find dental records, or would her teeth shatter too? Would they even bother? Quinn would be fine becoming just another statistic. They didn't need to identify her. She didn't want her parents to see her like that. Not that Quinn cared about them, but she didn't want them to see her strength and assume - as they did - that it was her weakness. Just another little thing to change about young  _Quinny_.

"Hey."

The sound was so unexpected that Quinn's foot shot out, slipping and almost sending her careening to the ground she had long been preparing to meet. The only thing that saved her was a tiny hand wrapped tight around her waist.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." The person said. Quinn's eyes were squeezed shut, and she focused on the solid metal in her hands. If she let go, gravity would still pull her down. It was tempting. "Why don't you come over this side of the rail?"

Quinn hadn't yet turned to meet the stranger, hoping it wasn't someone going to drag her off to a mental hospital or something. If it was, she wouldn't be surprised. Suicide wasn't what people usually considered the act of someone in sound mind. Quinn felt the sanest she ever had, though, right there in that moment. Completely at one with her destiny, completely in control. "Why should I?" She mumbled, breeze tossing her light words into the silence.

"Because this is a safety rail. For safety, you should be on this side."

"I don't want to be safe." Quinn muttered, words harbouring both a sense of loss and determination. "I want to die."

She heard a sigh from behind, hand still locked tight around her midriff. "Don't do it here."

"Why not?" Quinn spat back, surprised at the sudden snap in her words. She was just so  _sick_  of people telling her what to do and when and where and how. Everyone acted like they had the right to tell her how to live.

If she could only dictate one thing in her life, it would be her death.

"Listen, just climb back over the rail and talk to me. If I don't change your mind, I'll just go back downstairs and not look out the window for a while, okay?"

Reluctantly, Quinn nodded. The hands inched away from her body, but hovered there, in case she did decide to jump. With the finesse of a lifelong gymnast, Quinn hooked one leg back over the railing, vaulting over to the safe part of the balcony. Her hands shifted, but did not completely leave the railing.

"Good." The girl in front of her chimed. She had dark brown hair, falling about her shoulders in thick waves. She didn't look like she had intended to leave her room, an oversized  _Wicked_  sweatshirt hanging about her shoulders and a pair of black shorts adorning her tiny body. Woken up? Quinn wasn't a loud girl - she'd snuck out of her parents home for years without them knowing. Then she had been awake, but why was she monitoring the stairs? Or had she just been looking to find solace on the roof, and instead found her there?

Quinn made a point of not meeting her eyes. "Talk." She commanded, already missing the sense of freedom she had had hanging over the edge. Control. She'd had it, just for those few precious minutes.

"R-right, as I was saying..." The girl pulled herself together, smoothing out her hair, and then her clothes, before giving a self-satisfied nod. "I live on the fifth floor. An old lady lives below me, her name is Anna." Under Quinn's distracted gaze, the words she spoke came out in an uncertain hurry. "She's a stargazer. Sometimes I join her. She even named her cat Copernicus. You know, like the guy who figured out about the sun and orbit and stuff?"

Drawing in a slow breath through her nose, Quinn nodded to show she understood.

"Yes, well, she really likes to look out at the moon and stars."

Quinn waited a second before glancing over at the smaller woman. She had a curious expression on her face, but didn't appear to have any more to say. "Why should I care about your neighbour?" Quinn asked, pondering the non-sequitur she had been presented with. So the lady on the fourth floor liked stars - a good thing to know in death.

"Well, if you jump... she'll see you." The brunette drew her disjointed story together, eyes still intently focused on Quinn. "Maybe your life is so bad you need to resort to...  _this_ , but why should you ruin what this woman loves because of your selfishness?"

Quinn felt her jaw slacken, and then tense. "I'm going to kill myself and you come up here to call me selfish?" She asked, raising one fine, blonde brow.

"Not to make you feel bad!" She said, holding her hands up in defense. "Just... I just wanted you to rethink your choice. There are people you will hurt doing this." Her eyes drooped now, focusing on the concrete floor beneath them.

Silence reigned over the pair.

Quinn's fists continued to tense as she worked through her thoughts about the strange girl who had just called her selfish as she contemplated killing herself. She was just like everyone else in Quinn's life - thinking they know what's best, and judging her for her own decisions. Giving Beth up had been a choice forced upon her by her mother and the father of her child. Moving here, to New York, had been her father's choice. Send his messed up teenage mother to a reputable college and erase all the memories of the past - same as they'd done to overweight, ugly Lucy. And now a complete stranger was out, disrupting her last few minutes of life by calling her selfish for wanting to die. In a way, it was a fitting end for her. Quinn would be followed by those who wanted to dictate her life to her, up until the last breath. If someone shouted she was jumping wrong, she might just laugh in that final split-second.

Abruptly, she spoke. "Would you like to get coffee with me?" The brunette asked, lifting her eyes and smiling tentatively.

Had Quinn ever made a choice for herself in her entire life? In all honesty, she couldn't say so - unless you counted picking out this building and taking the stairs two at a time.

"Sure." She said it so halfheartedly, as if it didn't bother her at all.

Somehow it felt like an important decision.

"Really?" The girl looked honestly shocked for a second, before brightening. "Okay, great! I'll just go change and grab my things and we can go."

Quinn watched her head towards the stairwell with quick strides, before she froze. She turned on her heel and marched right back to where Quinn stood. "I'm Rachel. It's nice meeting you." And she stuck out a hand.

With a light smile, Quinn shook her hand. "Quinn."


	2. one

They walked in mutual silence to the nearest Starbucks. Quinn kept her eyes firmly planted on the ground, following her new companion more on instinct than on sight. At first, Rachel had tried to make conversation - about everything she possibly could. Quinn had kept her answers succinct, and - in most cases - non-verbal. A grunt or a snort conveyed her message in ways words could not - it gave something of an indifferent air to her.

And that was truly how she felt - indifferent. Maybe she could get away with just getting coffee, then throw herself off of Rachel's apartment building. Perhaps she could figure out what window that old lady would be stargazing on and throw herself off the opposite side of the building, just to keep from ruining the night sky for her.

A part of Quinn wanted her to see. Mortality was a fact of life - it happened. It happened young and old, and she should just be counting her lucky stars (Quinn snorted at this, and Rachel gave her an odd, sideways look) that it hadn't hit her, yet. Maybe this was Quinn's time, so what? She'd mostly come to terms with that, the idea that soon she would cease to exist.

Lucy Quinn Fabray would be a smear on the sidewalk and in the memories of those that knew her. Bitchy head cheerleader or disappointment daughter or cheating girlfriend - everyone had their own ideas about her. Quinn's own impression wasn't much different. She thought of herself as a composite - a part of all those horrible things was her, and they came together to make a being that was cruel more than kind. Self-absorbed and self-confident was what everyone - and Quinn - saw her as, most of the time. Admitting, even to her own conscious, that she wasn't was just creating another fault to be covered up.

**–––**

They reached the coffee shop soon enough. Rachel opened the door for her, ushering Quinn into the warmth.

It was late enough that the store was only manned by one. A man, probably around Quinn's age, doing whatever he could with his work attire to make himself look outrageous. "Kurt!" Rachel chimed, coming forward to hug him over the counter.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, leaning back to glance over at something. "You aren't rostered on until next week. Thought you'd want to put as much distance between you and work as possible." Kurt said with a laugh, matched by Rachel's.

"I'm coming to visit my favourite barista, of course." Rachel beamed, then stuck one hand out to beckon Quinn forward. She trudged towards the pair. "This is my friend, Quinn." Rachel said, gesturing between the both of them. "This is Kurt, we work together."

"And NYADA buddies." Kurt chimed in from behind her, leaning forward to offer Quinn a gloved hand, the fabric torn in some supposedly artsy way. Quinn shook his hand loosely.

"Of course." Rachel said, and they spent a moment gushing, discussing some tutorial or something. She then seemed to come to her senses - a good thing, too, as Quinn was contemplating leaving. "Anyway, we just came to grab some coffee."

"Sure thing." Kurt said, and they both placed their orders. Well, Rachel didn't have to place an order - Kurt knew on instinct. Quinn took a black coffee, just to keep things simple.

They sat down in two fluffy armchairs in the corner. Kurt took a few minutes to make up their drinks, setting down some oddly coloured, cream-topped monstrosity before Rachel, and a plain coffee in front of Quinn. She liked her coffee black. Something about the taste of coffee, not diluted by creamer or sugar just appealed to her. It was the raw - the unchanged form.

"So..." Rachel started. "You're going to kill yourself?" She did have the decency to look awkward at what she said, but the curiosity was evidently there.

"Seems that way." Quinn responded, taking a sip of her steaming coffee, ignoring the burn on her tongue.

"Why?" Rachel asked, tilting her head to the side as she messed about with her straw.

Quinn sighed loudly. "Because I want to." She ground out, feeling like coming out for coffee was actually a really bad idea. At first Quinn hadn't known whether Rachel was going to be a good or bad thing - she seemed both concerned yet willing to ignore the gravity of the situation in favour of good company. Now she was proving she could be direct in a manner that would make Santana proud. The latina had never wasted a breath on words that didn't need saying, but would spare plenty if she had questions to ask - nice or not.

"Your life can't be that bad." Rachel's tone was light, unbearably so.

"You don't know anything." Quinn bit back, not entirely sure what Rachel was playing at. Was she just trying to gloat about her life over someone who had been driven to the literal edge? Was that going to make her life that much better? Quinn sighed again.

"Tell me. Then I'll know." Rachel offered diplomatically.

Quinn had her mouth open, caught on a scathing remark, braced to up and leave. But she didn't. Instead, she spoke. It wasn't a complete life story - what would that take, a few days? - but it was close. She spoke vaguely of details: the head cheerleader with the star quarterback, the cheating, the pregnancy, Beth... the ridiculous Glee club she had joined, the details of which Rachel seemed intrigued by. Names were changed, just in case Rachel might know any of her peers - Quinn had heard talk amongst them of getting into NYADA, but had never cared enough to see if they achieved that dream. She did not want to risk someone finding out through a lucky connection of Rachel's.

Lucy, however, was a topic completely left out of the story. That was a life Quinn did not want to relive. Ever.

"I was in Glee, too." Rachel said, once Quinn had finished her story. Of all the responses, it was the most unexpected.

"We never really got far." Quinn stated, offhandedly, sipping the now-cooled coffee. She had joined just to sabotage the club, but there hadn't been much need. They had hardly any good singers, and their choreography was tragic. It often took the three Cheerio's in the team to step in and sort out some dance moves. If nothing else, the three of them had been the saving grace for the Glee Club.

"What was your club called?" Rachel asked, leaning down to lick cream off of her plastic spoon.

Quinn's feigned memory loss on the name of the club. She couldn't think of something witty enough on the spot, so she went with the easiest solution - forget. In reality she could have just combined one inspiring word with one musically-inclined one, which seemed to be the trend in Glee Club naming. Somehow, though, Quinn felt Rachel was the kind of girl to know every Glee Club in the country by name.

"Huh." Rachel said, and was thoughtful a minute, before shaking that smile back onto her face. "We won a couple of times. I, obviously, was the strongest voice there. Kurt and I got most of the duets." At mention of his name, the barista waved one hand at them both. Rachel gave him a tiny, but enthusiastic, wave back.

Once that exchange was over, Rachel spoke of Glee with renewed vigour. She basically gave Quinn an entire list of songs they had ever performed, elaborately describing their outfits and dance moves. Whilst she spoke, Quinn drifted off, allowing the background droning of Rachel's voice to lull her in to some kind of trance.

Rachel was everything Quinn would have hated in school. Passionate about Glee (she maintained to this day that she had only been there on Sue's word), wore dorky clothes (judging by the ugly sweater Quinn had spent the past ten minutes studying, her high school fashion couldn't have been much better), and intent on maintaining high grades. She was the driven, proud peer Quinn would have had slushied on a daily basis.

"Okay there?" Rachel asked at last, and Quinn's head snapped up. "You look like you were falling asleep." There was a faint reprimand in her speech, but she seemed used to that sort of reaction. "I apologise for getting so carried away. Performing has always been my passion."

As if Quinn hadn't noticed that already. "It's fine." She said, blinking herself back to the waking world of coffee and too-bright indoor lighting.

She was tired in a way that no twelve hour sleep could ever alleviate. She felt exhausted to her very core, the feeling embedded in the marrow of her bones. Quinn yawned, holding one hand up over her mouth. The only rest she would get would be death. Sleep was just a formality - the motion her body had to go through by nature. Her mind didn't desire sleep, where dreams could snatch and haunt her. Death was the final, ultimate peace.

"Do you, ah... have somewhere to go?" Rachel ventured, as Kurt came by and picked up both their mugs, carting them back up to the counter.

Quinn bit her lip. "I'll find someplace." She'd been kicked off Yale campus for failing all her units for the semester earlier that week. Some might say that was the tipping point, but Quinn felt she'd been headed for the streets of New York city for a long time - in a way more literal than one would first assume. She couldn't bring herself to go back to Lima, to see all the old places she'd once ruled over, to have to be in the same town as the woman who claimed Beth as her own, to be around all those people who'd never escaped like she had. She wasn't going to sulk back there with her tail between her legs. Quinn had  _made_  something of herself. Even if that something was a failed year at Yale and a spot on the New York pavement, it was better than Lima. To die in Lima would be to never truly escape that small town. Here she could be one of many, gone to a better place, hopefully an unknown. If she hit the ground with enough force, surely she would be obliterated. She didn't want to be held to Lima by a meaningless obituary in the paper, or the remains of her body scraped up and shipped back to that tiny, dead-grass cemetery.

Quinn wanted to die right now in New York. She had no where to go but down.

"I don't know if you should be out on your own." Quinn wasn't certain if Rachel had spoken to her earlier, or had only just opened her mouth. She didn't exactly strike Quinn as the sort to manage more than a few minutes of silence. Her statement felt as if it should be connected to something else - a prelude about her personal concern, perhaps.

Pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth - a habit formed to keep from speaking out of turn when she used to butt heads with Sue Sylvester as a sophomore - Quinn took a steadying breath. "I'll be fine."

"You can spend the night at my place." Rachel offered, worrying her lip with her teeth for a brief moment.

"I told you I'll be fine." Quinn echoed her earlier sentiment, getting to her feet. Rachel followed her lead, brushing down the front of her sweater and heavy skirt.

"Please just consider what you're doing." Rachel said, reaching out one hand to pat Quinn on the arm, before thinking better of it. "Sleep on it?"

Quinn looked down. "I know what I want." She said, feeling more sure about this than anything else she had before. More sure than the decision she had made to keep Beth, and then give her up to Shelby. More sure than she had been, cradled in the tight confines of her Cheerio's outfit as she strode around McKinley High, Queen of her castle. She was sure.

"Just give it the night." Rachel repeated, fiddling with the hem on her sweater.

Quinn closed her eyes, inhaling long through her nose. "One night?" She had always played into what others wanted her to be, in one way or another. In the end, the manipulative, lying girl Quinn Fabray had been was always somehow turned to the will of others. Someone always gained joy where she lost. No one ever had the guts to call her weak-willed to her face, but she felt that shiver along her arms and she  _knew_  people whispered it behind her back. Maybe that was why she hadn't jumped yet? She relished the choice so much she didn't want to give it up.  _Weak_.

"Of course!" Rachel chirped, linking arms with Quinn as a habit. The blonde flinched and shifted away, but the arm was locked tight with hers. "I always have a spare bed for when people stay over." Rachel spoke with a strange wistfulness - Quinn doubted she ever really had people stay over.

As she was dragged out into the street, Quinn was contending with her mind. It screamed at her from all places, telling her she had made the wrong choice. She should've jumped, she was weak,  _run_. Rachel didn't notice, instead yammering on about some particularly outstanding Glee performance in which she had  _nailed_  the vocals.

It was looking to be the longest night of Quinn's life.


	3. two

Spending the night in the top floor of the apartment complex Quinn had just tried to throw herself off of wasn't the exact way Quinn had seen her night going. She had mostly been expecting to not see the night through, and yet she had agreed to this. She had agreed to spend one more night alive for Rachel Berry, the girl she had just met. And who had then dragged her out to have coffee.

After assuring Rachel for the hundredth time that she did not require anything (if she was going to die the next day, what did trivialities such as food and water matter?) she was left to go to bed. The smaller brunette had offered her a change of clothes, in case she wished to make use of them, but Quinn didn't. Instead she simply unhooked her bra, pulling it out from under her top, and undid the belt looped tight around her waist. They formed a neat pile on the floor beside her shoes, and the still folded collection of Rachel's clothes. Quinn hadn't even bothered to open them up, but she was expecting to find a musical-themed oversized shirt of some kind in the pile.

The spare room was not what Quinn had been expecting. It wasn't necessarily cluttered, but did house some things that didn't fit elsewhere. A treadmill was pressed up against the far wall, loaded high with boxes. Quinn rifled through them briefly, glancing over old polaroids and certificates from Rachel's high school days - and earlier still. She wondered if she should feel guilty, running her fingers over every part of Rachel's past, but then decided she didn't care. Rachel was the sort of girl who'd go off an a tangent if Quinn asked, so it was an area she was best off discovering alone.

After acquainting herself with the memories Rachel kept boxed up in her spare room, Quinn returned to the bed. She drew her legs up to her chest, staring out through the window which lacked curtains. The room was empty, but it still felt so weird of her to be there - wrong, in a way. Feeling out of place was something Quinn had fought against her whole life, but it kept happening. It was like being in Mercedes' house for the first time all over again, knees as close to her body as they could be with that stomach. Quinn ran a hand over her midriff, feeling a distinct pleasure at the flat stomach that she found.

Beth. She would have a good life with Shelby. She wouldn't miss awkward Aunty Quinn, who cried whenever they were permitted alone together (not often). She'd grow up and do something special. She didn't need Quinn, just like her father didn't need Quinn either. No one did.

As she had laid Lucy to rest beneath the sweat of near-constant workouts and the knife of the plastic surgeon, so to would she lay Quinn to rest. Only this time, it would be for good.

And somehow, those thoughts running through her mind, Quinn fell into a satisfied sleep.

**–––**

She awoke to someone knocking on her door. Without waiting for an answer, Rachel poked her head into the room. "Good morning." She greeted.

Quinn sat up in bed, holding up a hand to defend her eyes from the sudden onslaught of light. "Morning." She replied, slowly adjusting to the waking world.

Rachel walked into the room, wearing the pyjamas she'd had on the roof earlier that night, before their coffee trip warranted a change. "Are you hungry?" In her hands she had a bowl, holding it out for Quinn to take.

The blonde shook her head. "No." She said, then caught herself. "Thank you." Quinn added politely, propping herself up against the headboard.

Rachel took this with a shrugged shoulder, coming to sit down on the end of the bed. Quinn pulled her feet out of the way as Rachel sat down, crossing her legs and beginning to eat whatever she had bought in. Cereal or muesli of some kind. "So, have you changed your mind?" She asked around a mouthful of breakfast, as if this were an ordinary morning conversation for her.

Over the course of the night Quinn hadn't changed anything, except her determination to succeed. "No." Quinn replied, cursing the weak part of her that was saddened by watching Rachel's face fall.

"Oh." She said, now staring deep into her bowl. "I see."

"You couldn't have changed my mind." Quinn said distractedly, watching a bird settle on the ledge outside the window. "I've known what I've wanted for a long time now." The bird hopped around briefly, picking at what it mistook for crumbs on the brickwork, before fluttering off again. At last Quinn drew her eyes back to the girl facing her across the bed.

Rachel sighed. "You know," she began, taking another spoonful of what Quinn now identified as muesli slathered in yogurt, "I've been doing some thinking."

Quinn didn't answer at first. The silence stretched out in front of them, broken only by Rachel chewing. "And?" Quinn prompted at last, growing uncomfortable with the lack of discussion. It was awkward to sit by, spectator to Rachel's breakfast.

"And I think a lot of the problems you have - you know, with your boyfriends and your baby and stuff... I really think that you're bringing it upon yourself." Rachel furrowed her brow, mulling thoughtfully over her next bite as Quinn absorbed her words.

"Bringing it  _upon myself_?" Quinn repeated, tone taking on that famed  _head bitch_ quality from back in the Cheerio's.

To her credit, Rachel was unfazed. "Well, I mean, you did  _cheat_  on your first boyfriend then wonder why he didn't really like you..." Here she lingered for a moment, a puzzled frown drawing her brow in, before she shrugged to herself and carried on, "and it was your choice to keep the baby and then give her away. You can't blame the adoptive mother for keeping her, nor can you blame her father for just wanting to be in her life." Rachel leaned over to an old dresser and set her food on its dusty surface. Once that was done, she crawled forward on the bed, sitting almost face-to-face with Quinn. The blonde turned her head away. "Go back to them and say sorry. Make things right. If you want to leave the world, don't leave behind all these broken hearts." There was a plea in Rachel's voice, but at the same time a type of firmness.

Quinn flinched away when Rachel made to grab her hand, but that still did not stop her. "They might not forgive you right away, but better to try and fail than not at all. Don't leave the world this way, Quinn. Don't make your legacy one of hatred and sadness."

Quinn slapped Rachel across the face. She was kinda glad the girl had put down her meal, because she'd have a mess to clean up otherwise. "What do you know?" Quinn snapped, bringing her legs up quick enough to dislodge Rachel from her place.

"I only know what you told me!" Rachel cried, righting herself on the end of the bed.

"You haven't lived my life, so don't tell me what I have or haven't done right!" Quinn got to her feet, grabbing her stuff off the floor in a fury. "You're sitting around acting like you have all the damned answers!" She screamed, hands in tight, white-knuckled fists.

Slamming the door shut behind her, bra, belt, and shoes still clasped in hand, Quinn made for the door. So what if articles of clothing came fluttering down after her, what difference would that make? This wasn't middle school - her mother hadn't gone writing her name all over everything. Any suicidal woman could shop at Victoria's Secret.

Quinn was seconds away from reaching the door to Rachel's apartment when it flew open in front of her. She had to take a moment to catch herself, stumbling back to ensure she didn't walk straight into the person who stood there.

"Oh, sorry." The taller figure said, holding out two hands beside Quinn's body in case she fell - a reflexive gesture, if not a bit late.

Quinn gave a noisy huff, rearranging her things in her hands, prepared to storm out before Rachel caught up to her. She looked up with every intent of giving the intruder a particularly venomous glare, but the look melted into disbelief. She recognised that figure - tall, well-built, and with this near-constant look of confusion. Though right now, Quinn thought, he was most entitled to that look.

"Quinn?" Finn said, and Quinn was sure their expressions of pure shock matched. "What are you doing here?"

"Finn?" Rachel said, coming out from the bedroom at last. "I'm sorry, this probably looks really weird, I can explain."

"What are  _you_  doing here?" Quinn ground back, staring up at him through hooded eyes.

Finn cleared his throat, looking very much uncomfortable. "Rachel is my girlfriend."

Quinn spun on her heel, focusing on the stunned brunette watching them both. "Your  _girlfriend_? Since when?" At one point Rachel made to intervene, but Quinn held up a hand to silence her.

"Since when is it any of your business, Quinn?" Finn said, shutting the door so that the neighbours wouldn't be privy to their discussion - argument. Whatever. "You cheated on me. Do you think I'm just going to be faithful to you forever? Even _after_  we broke up? We go to completely different schools, you don't control me."

Mouth opened on a reply, Quinn fell short. No words came. Why  _was_  she mad? She had no right to be, really. She was just mad. At everything. That revelation did not stop her feeling that way - Quinn was furious, and if she could form a suitable retort it would be flying around the room by now. The skill she'd had at arguing on the spot (the debating team had asked her to join for most of her time at McKinley) had suddenly fled her body, leaving behind a pure rage that had no words to express itself with.

"Okay, one of you is going to explain what is going on here." Rachel came up between them now, raising both hands. "You're not leaving until I know what's happening." She said to Quinn, with her back to Finn. The taller man lay one hand on Rachel's shoulder.

"Quinn and I-" Finn began, but he was cut off.

"Finn is Mike." Quinn said with a resigned sigh, using the name of the other Glee clubber she had substituted for Finn's own. The taller man made to argue, but Quinn hadn't lost her ability to produce a ball-breaking gaze along with her mastery of words.

Rachel clearly took a second to piece everything together, and then made a long noise of understanding. "I know you." Rachel said after a moment. "You're Quinn." She said the name she knew, but it held so much more weight now. Like all of the bad things (they couldn't possiby be good) Finn had said about her were now resting on her shoulders. Rachel's look, however, was not as Quinn expected. There was concern, curiosity, and certainly a little bit of anger there. Quinn had broken Finn's heart - it was something she'd carried with her a long time, and sometimes wore as a badge of pride simply because accepting what she had been to him was too much. It would have cracked the Quinn Fabray façade. Laughing as she described Finn crying over her to Santana was easier than admitting she, too, had cried - a lot.

Quinn swallowed, her throat tight, and then nodded. "I'm going now." All the fury from earlier had drained out, to be replaced with defeat. Finn had found happiness, where she had not. Her happiness was six floors down, and it was waiting for her. She ducked past Finn, who just watched her go, unaware that he had any reason to step in and stop her.

"Quinn, wait!" It didn't sound like Rachel wanted her to stay for her own safety - perhaps to hear her story, but not to keep her safe. Not like the request for coffee, or the offer to stay the night. Those had been a good Samaritan doing her best for someone in need. This now was a person who had an insatiable need to  _know_ , and Quinn had just made herself the most interesting person in the world. But Rachel had done her part, and now all she wanted to do was satisfy her curiosity.

So Quinn  _didn't_  wait. She just kept going, upstairs.


	4. three

"Quinn, wait!" Rachel called again, speeding up the stairs in her wake.

But Quinn had no choice. On the door a sign had been placed,  _Undergoing Maintenance_ , the lock bolted tight. She sat down on the top step, cornered, nowhere to go. By the time she had processed her lack of escape, Rachel was already hounding her up the stairs.

The only fact Quinn could take solace in was that Finn was not following his girlfriend up the stairs too. It was one sset of footsteps, gracious and light. Quinn heard her stumble, gasp, and then right herself, turning sharp to come face-to-face with Quinn.

There was some space between them, and Rachel was panting lightly. It wasn't a long way - either she was unfit, or her body was trying to cope with the sudden information it was given simultaneously. "Oh." Rachel took in the sign above Quinn's head, and a look of relief flitted across her face. "Listen, I'm sorry for what happened in there. I didn't - I mean, how could I know? Quinn isn't that common a name, but I never really made the connection before..."

And why would she? Plenty of reasons for her boyfriend to have an ex-girlfriend named Quinn, and sure, some details Finn had told her must have lined up to the story last night, but the names should have thrown Rachel right off. "Some of the stuff you said sounded familiar, like the boyfriend and the baby, but I..." Rachel stared down at her hands, knotted together. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Quinn mumbled. If anything, it was hers - then Finn's. Rachel's last of all, because she'd done nothing but open up her home to Quinn. "Just go back downstairs. Finn will be waiting."

"I sent him home." Rachel said, smiling encouragingly. "I wanted to talk to you..." Again, she let her sentence hang in the air, this time pointing downstairs.

Quinn licked her lips slowly. "Here is fine." She breathed. She wasn't getting cornered by Rachel again. She was a lovely girl, but Quinn was going to wait until the door was open again. Briefly she wondered what maintenance was being done - were they repairing the railing? It had felt flimsy in her grip last night, but even if they heightened it, she'd make it over. Quinn had been on the cheerleading squad most of her high school life. No matter what gap there was between railings, she'd make it - Quinn could slide into the splits at a seconds notice. She was - or had been - an athlete. An expert in her field. Letting something like a railing ruin her plans would only be another shame to bear.

"Right." Rachel sat herself down on the stairs, looking most uncomfortable as she tried to face Quinn. Eventually she gave up on that, standing and brushing off the dust from the old step she'd been occupying. "Finn told me a lot about you. And I... I know it's weird, but... I used you as an assignment for one of my classes at NYADA."

Quinn felt her eyebrows go up in surprise, before pulling them back down. Rachel's words did not promise a  _good_  assessment on her character, especially if what she knew was strictly through Finn.

"We were doing character development in script. I thought you sounded so sweet and lonely, despite all the shortcomings Finn listed... you were my inspiration for that. Before I submit it, could I run some of it by you?" Rachel smiled hopefully, coming and offering Quinn a hand. "I don't want to ruin your character, since you'd know it best. I just hope I've done you justice."

This day was slowly becoming weirder and weirder. First Finn showing up, and now Quinn found out that Rachel had written a whole play on her  _life_? Or her character at least, but she must have included  _some_  real events. What happened to a person shaped their character - action and introspection went hand in hand. "I'd hate to disrupt the happy couple." Quinn said, trying to tone down the venom on her words. Finn was an old wound, but rub some salt in it and it stung all the same.

"I've sent Finn home. He won't be around as long as you are." Rachel was lying - that was Quinn's first thought. What woman would give up time with their boyfriend for time with his ex from high school? His suicidal, not to mention somewhat crass, ex-girlfriend. "I promise, Quinn."

But there was something in her body language that invited Quinn back. Rachel was open, arm out, offering Quinn whatever she wanted. She had tried to stop Quinn with words, but had never shown any inclination to physically restrain her. Quinn knew that if it came down to it, she could fight past Rachel. That, or wrench her window open. Quinn didn't want to hurt her one helping hand -  _a legacy of hatred and sadness_  echoed in her mind - but if it came down to it, Quinn had options. She wasn't cornered this time.

Freedom of choice swayed Quinn into a better mindset. With Rachel she had options. She could come or she could go - anything she wanted. "I'll look over it with you." Quinn's smile was watery, nothing at all like Rachel's broadening one, but it was something.

–––

Like their Glee club discussion last night, Rachel took the lead, filling up most of the lapses in conversation. Quinn was seated on her couch, having changed back into the bra and belt she had held in hand earlier. Rachel read out the script elaborately, pausing every few lines to ask Quinn how she was doing - was the emotion right? The actions realistic? Her reactions true to life?

Even if Quinn had been able to get a word in with Rachel talking so hurriedly, nothing would have come. All she could do was sit by and nod, numb, trying to take in all of what Rachel said. She portrayed several characters in her play - particularly Puck and Finn, with differing masculine voices, though Shelby and Santana made appearances. What struck most was the monologues. In plays, they were vital to convey internal thoughts of a character. Rachel had been liberal with them, but it was to good use.

Every word rang through Quinn with déjà vu. "Why would my father not understand, that in my greatest hour of need, he is the one I turn to?" Rachel said, turning around suddenly and clasping her hands to her chest. Quinn's mouth hung slightly ajar as she watched the girl perform. "And now I am left with nothing. The child I spent months nurturing is gone, and my reputation ruined." The brunette before Quinn dropped her head, manipulating her voice to channel sorrow. Quinn felt her heart climb into her throat as she kept going, talk of Beth and the complete breakdown of her social and personal life on stage, as if it were a show.

Which Rachel had made it. But it was not a comedy, not something to laugh at. It was serious. Quinn was sure she could see tears glinting in Rachel's eyes, same as they were in her own. "Sometimes it seems to be easy, acting as if nothing at all had happened in the past year. But it was a year of mistakes, months spent on a child I will never hold as my own, a lover I will never get back, and a family I can never repair." Rachel stood simply, facing Quinn, an unbridled honesty in her eyes and her words. "If the pyramid is the last thing I rule in my life, then I'll rule it well."

Quinn didn't know the production was over - it was a short play, perhaps half an hour in length if acted out with the appropriate number of cast members.

"What did you think?" Rachel asked, reaching out one hand to set on Quinn's cheek, thumbing away a tear.

The time stretched out long. Quinn's mouth remained open, soundless. Rachel looked anxious. "It..." Quinn began, not sure how to explain it. How did you just tell someone that, without knowing you, they had been the most honest and understanding about your life? How could you tell one person that they'd defined her better than any friends or school psychologists or church counsellors could do? Even without knowing her, Rachel had given Quinn that chance. "It was great." Quinn said at last. She was not the sort to go lavishing praise around, and - for her - saying something was great was a lot.

"You think so?" Rachel asked, smiling ear to ear. "Is there anything I could change? Finn didn't tell me much, so a lot of this I made up. Maybe we could work through some of the action scenes?"

And Quinn let herself sit there and work with Rachel, distracted by the enthusiastic playwright sitting at her feet, pen in one hand and script in the other.

–––

Quinn never said why she stayed, and Rachel never asked.

The next morning she simply carted two bowls of breakfast in, set one in Quinn's awakening hands, and began to eat. There were no more accusations, no more firm words. Quinn got the feeling that Rachel said what had to be said, but found it hard to hold anything against a person. It was like any sour words between them had been forgotten.

Rachel dragged Quinn shopping. Neither girl had much money - Quinn had none, in fact. She had left all her belongings with Santana when she left Yale, promising to get in touch and pick them all up over the coming week. Her cell phone had met an unfortunate demise on train tracks, so contacting her was impossible. Quinn had nothing on her person to prove she was who she said she was. Santana had with her Quinn's passport, bank cards, and various other forms of ID.

Shopping was nice, though. Rachel bought Quinn some basics to get by in, assuming - as Rachel was prone to do - that her house-guest was now somewhat permanent. Quinn didn't have the heart to say no, watching as Rachel doted over her like she'd never had a friend like Quinn before in her life.

Sometimes, as Rachel went off into a little rant, Quinn would think about her. How many girls at her school had Quinn laughed at and ignored and shunned that might have been as sweet and endearing as Rachel? Quinn let herself laugh a few times as Rachel tried on dorky outfits - or forced them upon her. She helped Rachel pick out clothes for her graduation, which was to come up in the next few months.

They got frozen yoghurt on the way back to Rachel's place, bags hanging off their arms as they ate. "It's nice to go shopping with a girl for once." Rachel observed, licking a chunk of yoghurt off her plastic spoon. "Kurt is great with fashion, but it's different with a guy. Even if he is, you know..." Rachel waved one bag-clad arm around.

"Gay?" Quinn observed with one eyebrow raised in amusement. Santana possessed an impressive gaydar, and had taken Quinn through all the ways to find out which way someone swung. Not that Kurt was difficult, really. Heterosexual men did not normally wear one torn up glove, or buffed their nails whilst they were bored at work. He just gave off that vibe

Rachel laughed. "You can imagine how he gets when I pick up something last season or something."

As they walked they spoke and laughed, Rachel with less restraint than Quinn. Being around Rachel was easy. Forgetting why she was in that building was hard, but Quinn was coming to terms with it.

–––

The more time she spent with Rachel, the less she thought about the roof.

The less she thought about the roof, the more something else settled in her mind. Rachel.

She was an intriguing creature, beautiful in a vintage thrift store way. Passionate about what she loved, a firm hand and occasionally insensitive to the feeling of others. Trusting, to the point where the random suicidal girl she'd found had now become a regular addition in her household. As promised, Finn never set foot in the house when Quinn was around. And the trend of the past few days was that Quinn was wherever Rachel was. They called and texted, though Rachel tried to keep it painless and brief.

Those actions Quinn could not understand. But she was grateful for it. "Come and practice with me." Rachel insisted, poking her head into the spare room (now Quinn's room). As the date for her presentation drew closer - along with her finals for other classes - Rachel was getting more and more anxious. Practicing took her mind off of it, if the amount of times Rachel ran through the script with Quinn meant anything.

"Sure." Quinn set down Rachel's well-worn paperback copy of Wicked down on the bedside table and rolled to her feet.

Her affirmation drew some of the anxiety from Rachel's expression. "Would you like to be Quinn?" She asked, smiling at the ongoing joke that had formed between them as they picked parts.

Quinn never deliberated long. "Not Quinn." She said as she picked up her own photocopy of the script and tailed Rachel through to the lounge.

If Rachel noticed anything weird about Quinn  _not_  wanting to be herself when they rehearsed, she said nothing.


	5. four

"Hello?" Quinn heard Santana's familiar voice come down the line on the third ring. It had been much more than the promised week or so Quinn had outlined when she'd dumped her stuff at Santana's place. In fact, it had been nearly a month since she dropped out of Yale - kicked out, technically, but Quinn had made the choice to leave. Santana attended the same school as her, though Brittany had transferred into NYADA last semester, and so the pair made do with a rented apartment between both schools.

"Santana, hey." Quinn said, gripping the cheap prepaid mobile in her hand. Time had flown since she had moved in with Rachel - kinda. Finn still didn't visit when Quinn was around, and Quinn never left the apartment without Rachel, so it was safe to say she'd moved in in a way. She still didn't have any of her own possessions, and had only just gotten around to getting a phone. Santana deserved to know where the woman who had dumped her stuff in her spare room had gone.

The time difference between leaving and reconnecting couldn't be helped. Time with Rachel was easy, and uncomplicated by old problems. Finn said nothing more about her - or Rachel didn't bring those things up to keep their relationship comfortable. They went out often, mostly to just window shop, still starved college students as they were. Quinn made her way slowly through Rachel's library whilst the girl went to work or school, and continued to help her with her upcoming performance - which was now only a week away. Rachel was on edge, and Quinn assumed it to be her role to help keep her happy.

Since moving in, Quinn had discovered a great number of vegetarian comfort foods that were easy enough to make. Nothing made Rachel smile, she noticed, like peanut butter cookies when she got in from a hard day of study. Final years did that to you - Quinn had put off semesters and failed units so many times she wasn't sure how many credits she had truly earned at this point. Santana was doing a part time degree, as was Brittany, both willing to put off their graduation time in favour of spending time together. Quinn wouldn't lie - she was envious.

"Quinn?" Santana asked, as if confirming the identity of the caller to herself. When Quinn hummed in approval, she heard Santana turn away from the phone to address Brittany. The pair were never more than a few metres from each other at any given time. When they had to go in to school, it made things harder, but both were willing to face peak hour public transport most days to be with each other at night. Any remotely romantic person  _would_  be jealous. "Shit, way to disappear off the face of the Earth."

Quinn smiled at how close Santana was to her true plan. "Sorry, things happened." Quinn stated vaguely, and she knew Santana longed to press her for details, but that could wait until they were talking in person. "I was thinking I could come get my stuff sometime this week." It would mark the first time she was away from Rachel since meeting her, and part of Quinn was saddened by that prospect. She had just met one of the truest friends she'd ever had. Santana was lovely, but prone to gossip, and anything shared with her was shared with Brittany. Brittany, on the other hand, was the sweetest girl around - it was just that her advice often missed the mark. Quinn couldn't tell whether she really was that naive, or just wanted to believe the best in everyone.

"Hocked it all to pay tuition." Santana answered dryly, and Quinn heard Brittany chastise her in the background. Quinn laughed lightly, and Santana snorted. "Nah, you know you can visit whenever you want." She said, stopping again to assure Brittany Quinn knew she was just kidding around.

"Tomorrow, then?" Quinn suggested. Rachel had a full rehearsal tomorrow for her play - she got access to the students studying costuming, set design, and hair and make-up. The actors Rachel had been given to cast in her piece were first year undergrads doing the same degree she was. It was an entirely student production, and Rachel had been anxiously flitting around the apartment all afternoon planning what she needed to get done. At the current moment she paced before Quinn, discussing her to-do list with lines from the play interspersed.

On the other end of the line, Santana hummed thoughtfully. "Afternoon? Britts and I are doing lunch."

"Sure." Quinn said. "I'll see you both then. You've got my number now." She did feel particularly guilty about leaving Santana in the dark, and she was sure the girl had tried many times to hunt her down - Verizon must have received some nasty calls regarding her phone number, which had suddenly gone offline.

Within seconds of closing the cheap phone, the plastic hinge on it already starting to give way, Quinn was being assaulted by Rachel. "Do you think this line works? Really? Go through it with me." She insisted, tossing Quinn's copy of the script on her lap, despite the fact that the blonde already knew her lines by heart.

So she picked it up and began reciting.

–––

Quinn knew the public transport system well enough that finding her way to Santana and Brittany's place was a straightforward process. She caught the appropriate train and then bus, walking the route she had come to know quite well. When she arrived at the front door, she barely had a chance to knock when the door was flung open. "Quinn!" Brittany greeted, pulling her into a tight embrace, nearly lifting Quinn clear off the ground.

She returned the enthusiastic hug, hearing Santana laugh quietly from in the hall. "You've got a lot of explaining to do." Was all the Latina said in greeting, whilst Brittany busied herself looking over every inch of Quinn and ensuring she was okay.

"I know." Quinn said, slowly being shepherded indoors by Brittany. She always had been concerned about everyone she knew - even those who weren't close friends to her. If someone at school had needed a hand, Brittany would be there. Santana did not share her girlfriend's sense of good will, and was more likely to try and drag the blonde away from those who would damage their social status. Over time, though, they had evened one another out - Santana was nicer, though still retained her bitchy streak, and Brittany less inclined to give her wages to every homeless man they passed.

After passing Brittany's test, Quinn was permitted to sit in the kitchen. Santana sat opposite her, and the box of Quinn's possessions rested between them. "So, where have you been?" She asked, locking her fingers together as Brittany prepared drinks.

"Just staying with a friend." Quinn answered, waving one hand. Being vague was not intentional - it was a defense mechanism. Even after being caught in her lie by Rachel, Quinn couldn't help it. She was defensive about who she was and who she knew. It was at the point now where Quinn didn't know exactly what Rachel thought she was. Most of the basic stuff she'd said to her was true - cheerleading teenage mother from Ohio - but the finer details had a tendency to be... _altered_.

Santana raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Who is it?" She continued as Brittany set down three glasses of juice on the table and some baked goods. Quinn didn't know if they were homemade or bought, but she picked delicately at a croissant. "Come on, Q, you don't expect me to believe you found a place to stay in New York and forgot all about your stuff?"

"And your friends." Brittany included with a solemn nod. Santana leaned over to rub one hand up and down her thigh.

Quinn sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. She's a friend I met before." Santana didn't believe that such a thing could happen, but it had. Quinn really  _had_  just met someone who had completely changed her life and made her forget about all her things. It was true. And sometimes, Quinn had to pinch herself because it all felt like a dream. "I just had to get myself sorted out after Yale and all that."

It was a truly flimsy excuse, and Santana was poised to shoot her down and demand the truth when Brittany held a finger up over her girlfriend's lips. "Just don't do it again." She scolded in a friendly way only Brittany could manage. "We were worried about you."

"Sorry." Quinn said again, with an apologetic smile, and then their conversation turned to catching up. It was well into the evening when Quinn finally left, lugging her bag of things back onto public transport for the ride home.

–––

Unpacking Quinn's things and assembling in the not-so-spare room was a good distraction for Rachel. She finally calmed down about altering a jacket that was  _perfect_  for the production, and settled in to go through Quinn's meager supplies.

It was all that remained of her life. She'd given all the clothes she didn't really wear to Goodwill, and so there were a few outfits folded up in the bottom of the box. On top of that were some notebooks, photos, and other items of memorabilia. In an A4 envelope was all of Quinn's ID and important documents, which she placed on the bedside table.

"Do you mind if I look?" Rachel asked, already moving to pick up the top photo frame.

Quinn shrugged her shoulders, and the brunette went nuts. She picked up each photo in turn, asking Quinn about who was involved and where it was taken. The first picture was of Quinn, Santana, and Brittany in their Cheerio's jackets. Between them they held the National Cheerleading Championship trophy. First place. Rachel gave Quinn her undivided attention - she asked when it had been, what they had done to win, and what life had been like as a cheerleader. Quinn even got into the spirit of things and performed for Rachel the splits - the only trick she could manage in the small apartment. Even if it was basic gymnastics, Rachel sat upright on the carpet, legs crossed and applauding Quinn.

"How do you even do that?" Rachel asked, standing up in her sweats and getting as low to the ground as she could. She made a triangle between her legs and the floor, of a decent size for someone who was not trained to perform the act.

"Try this way." Quinn instructed, pulling Rachel's leg forward so that she slid into a forward lunge. They were easier to do for beginners than just sticking your legs out and sliding down. Rachel still didn't make it all the way into a split, but Quinn held her torso steady and she got most of the way there.

At last, Rachel started to laugh. "This won't work, just let me go." When Quinn did, the brunette fell over onto her side, crossing her legs and righting herself once more. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a cheerleader. I can't even do a cartwheel or anything."

"I can show you sometime." Quinn offered with a quiet smile, and Rachel nodded enthusiastically.

All talk of cheerleading was put to the side when Rachel picked up the next image. It was of Quinn ready for the prom, with a tiara nestled in the blonde curls on her head. "You look gorgeous." Rachel said, stroking her fingers across the glass in a state of awe.

Quinn had the decency to blush, though her heart leaped at the praise. "Thank you." Quinn said, eyes dropped down to focus on the carpet, biting her bottom lip to restrain her grin.

"Did you win Prom Queen?" Rachel asked, running her thumb across the ornate frame as she waited for Quinn to answer.

"No." She breathed, toying with the hem of her shirt. It had been a terrible night - there'd been a fiasco with the votes being rigged, and in the end all the jocks had gotten together to vote up a horribly unpopular girl and humiliate her. Quinn would have approved if it hadn't been the thing to take the crown from her. "The boys were horrible and picked some girl to be mean." That loss still haunted her. Quinn had wanted to come back from the Beth drama, and being Prom Queen her senior year would've been the thing to do it. Unfortunately, it didn't quite work out.

Rachel made a sympathetic noise. "Some of the guys voted Kurt - you know, from work? - to get Prom Queen. It was horrible, but he got through." She then leaned forward to place one hand on Quinn's knee, who did her best not to flinch away. Rachel had proven herself to be quite touchy-feely, and Quinn typically didn't buy into that sort of thing. "You looked like a Queen in that photo anyway."

Again the smile arose, and again Quinn had to avoid Rachel's eyes. "Thank you, Rachel." The photo was pressed lightly into her hands, and Quinn drew a finger across the lines of her dress. She  _had_ looked beautiful that night, Quinn knew it. And she had  _deserved_  that crown. Rachel's praise helped lessen the lingering hurt from that incident because she was an honest girl. Rachel told Quinn when she'd done something wrong, and had - on occasion - been quite brutal about it. She wasn't someone sucking up to her at school, trying to leech off her popularity, Rachel was saying it because she meant it. And  _that_ was what touched Quinn.

"Quinn?" A hand invaded her line of sight. Quinn looked up. "You were zoning out there." Rachel said with a smile, holding up a framed picture of Beth. She was only a few months old in the image, something Shelby had given her before Quinn went off to College. The young girl was in a fluffy pink tutu and wearing elasticated wings, a wand clutched in her chubby, baby-fat hands. "I was just... is this her?"

That image was Quinn's favourite of the three. Beth had a cheeky grin on her face, like she was laughing at something behind the camera person. "Yeah. Beth." Quinn couldn't help dwelling on what made her laugh, though - she knew that it wasn't her, and that was saddening. It would never be her, making funny faces to amuse her daughter, or calming her from tears when they got photos with Santa at Christmas.

"She's got your eyes." Rachel observed, able to see finer detail on that picture as it was the biggest of the three. Quinn was silent as Rachel continued to look over the picture, giving it a much more serious assessment than the former two had received. "You would've made a great mother." Rachel said at last, setting the picture gently on the carpet between them. "You did what most people would be too selfish to do - give her up. That alone proves you loved her enough to give her the best."

Rachel crawled forward across the carpet to pull Quinn into a hug, looser than Brittany's from earlier that day. Quinn didn't know how she looked - was her expression asking for comfort, or did Rachel just desire to give it? "I knew before I met you you were a great person, if not misguided. I'm just glad I have the opportunity now to show you." Rachel mumbled into her shoulder, and Quinn looped her arms gently back around Rachel's waist. "You'll be coming to the show, right?" She asked, drawing back to meet Quinn's eyes.

"Of course." Quinn said, without a moments hesitation. "I wouldn't miss it for anything." And no matter the lies she had told Rachel about her past, that was the complete truth.


	6. five

Quinn had been burned far too many times to ever say she fell in love with someone again. Falling in love just didn't happen for her any more. Quinn fell into interest with people. She wanted those that intrigued her, those that promised something exciting and different.

Rachel Berry was intriguing and exciting and different. She was sweet with a good dose of strange in there. Though sometimes she would speak out, she always meant well by it, and Quinn had come to accept her random bouts of criticism as best she could. They never really hit hard spots, and when Rachel explained to her the sins she had committed by overcooking tofu, well, Quinn was just too amused to get mad.

And every time Rachel mentioned Finn, it fed this jealous feeling coiled low in Quinn's stomach. It certainly wasn't jealousy that this new girl was talking about her high school boyfriend, because Quinn had well and truly moved on from Finn. In fact, having dated Finn, she knew just how much of an idiot he was - and just how much better Rachel deserved.

"Just have faith." Quinn instructed as Rachel once more attempted a cartwheel and, at the last minute, changed her mind. They had finally gotten around to those cheerleading lessons Rachel had asked about - even if cartwheeling was just basic gymnastics.

Rachel huffed, dragging herself up from the ground. "It's scary, Quinn." She protested, rubbing her hands on her pants and leaving grassy stains there. After the first time she had landed on her back with a solid  _thud_  Rachel had been naturally wary about attempting the stunt again.

Quinn smiled, took a few steps, and performed a perfect cartwheel. "Just like that. You'll never get it if you just don't try." When she had learned, there had been a lot of awkward falls and very poor cartwheels involved. It wasn't something you just did once and suddenly had perfected.

Again, Rachel took a moment before starting her run up, this time trusting in her hands to support her body. It wasn't the best cartwheel - Rachel's legs stuck out at an angle from her body, as if they did not wish to be so far from the ground. Her landing wasn't exactly pretty either, as she rolled into a crouch then bounced back onto her feet. "Did I do it?' Rachel asked, barely restrained excitement showing in her eyes.

"Needs a bit more work, but yeah, you did." Quinn said, coming over to take Rachel's grass-stained hands in her own.

Rachel laughed loudly, pulling Quinn into a tight hug. "That's the most fun I've had in a long time." Rachel admitted when she pulled back, snatching Quinn's hand up to drag her to a nearby ice cream stand.

Whilst Quinn had been there, Rachel had gone out on dates with Finn. She felt some satisfaction at knowing  _she_  was the one to show Rachel a good time and not the over-sized idiot who was taking his girlfriend for granted.

As they shared ice creams on a park bench, sweaty and - in places - green, Quinn decided that she would make Rachel hers.

–––

"Santana." Quinn said into the mouthpiece of the phone, keeping an eye on the door - even though she knew Rachel was sound asleep. "I need your help."

And she should feel bad she was doing this, but Quinn didn't. She felt alive in an entirely different way now - different to when she and Rachel had been laughing and working on her gymnastic skills together. This was an adrenaline rush, the exciting feeling she got when she was doing something underhanded.

It was bad, but the ends justified the means. And the end was  _oh so_  worth it.

"Shoot, Q." Santana answered around a yawn, the sounds of a late-night television program humming in the background.

Quinn swallowed and couldn't help the smile on her face. "Rachel has a play tomorrow night." Her tongue darted out to whet her lips as she prepared herself to commit fully to her plan. But it was for the best. Rachel deserved it. "I need you to make sure Finn doesn't go."

An interested noise came down the line, and seconds later the television show in the background turned off. "Might I ask why?"

Ever since Finn had outed Santana, the girl had held a grudge against him. And ever since... well,  _everything_  Finn had done to her, Quinn felt the same. Right now the fact that she - the new, suicidal girl Rachel found - was the one helping Rachel most with her production made Finn look even worse. Unsupportive and uncaring. He didn't even seem to notice that Quinn had moved herself in, and - for as long as she stayed - he was unwelcome. "She deserves better. I want you to break them up."

Quinn could picture the sly smirk drifting across Santana's features. They really were alike in more ways than one would expect. "I'm in just for making Hudson suffer." Santana drawled. "But what comes after you ruin the happy couple?"

Now, Quinn had not said outright to anyone she liked Rachel. Because she didn't - not like that. She just wanted to make her happier than Finn did. She  _wanted_  that bright star to be in her own galaxy. "I step in." Santana likely knew Quinn had a lean towards bisexuality, at least. A horny teenager who did not want to add to her offspring did find appeal in the lack of pregnancy that stemmed from a lesbian relationship. On top of that, Santana and Brittany had always been the sort looking to spice things up - curiosity gave the cat amazing orgasms, if she were to speak so crudely.

Santana paused a moment. "I'm not going to tell anyone." She said, though Quinn knew that Brittany finding out was a given. "But are you sure this is the right way to go about it? I'm all for breaking some balls tomorrow, but if your lady-crush finds out it probably won't end well."

"She's not a lady-crush." Quinn bristled at the term, before then coming to accept what Santana said. If she went there, convinced Finn to miss the performance - make him look like a loser or a cheater or whatever Santana had in mind... and Rachel found out... "And she'll never find out." Quinn stated firmly.

And then Santana's tone returned to its happy home-wrecker way from before. "By tomorrow night Finn Hudson will be a cheating slob. As if he wasn't a slob already." Santana added at the end with a snort. "Good luck, Q."

"Thanks."

–––

If Rachel had been a mess before the play started, she was a catastrophic mess on her opening night. Which wasn't entirely accurate, as the show was only open one night, but it made Rachel feel more like the Broadway star she was to say it that way.

"It's going to be  _fine_ , Rachel." Quinn said, hovering around the brunette backstage. She hadn't immediately gone there, but Rachel had spotted her taking her front row seat and dragged her out back. Around them bustled other actors, the hair and make-up girls cycling through people in rapid order. Rachel had been done up in a blonde wig, which didn't look too bad on her. Part of it was still in a roller, and she wore a cheerleading outfit (not in McKinley red and white but Costume Department black and yellow), fussing with the pleats.

"What if the set falls apart? We shouldn't be made to trust these first years with anything like this." She complained, catching the eye of many other first years who looked less than impressed with her assessment. "And Finn isn't even here yet! We open in half an hour, who does he think he is?" She added, glancing around the curtain again to find her boyfriend's seat vacant.

Quinn tried not to smile, the weight of the cell phone in her pocket heavy against her thigh.

_Idiot. Convinced him the show was next week. Britt got a photo that looks like he grabbed my tits. All good here Q. xx S &B._

It was an awful scheme, really, and the stress Rachel felt was affecting Quinn. "Breathe." She instructed, taking Rachel's hands in her own. The girl looked at her as if to say  _breathe? now?_ , but did so obediently. Quinn kept her eyes focused on Rachel's, trying to draw out some of her bad mood - or put some good into her. All things considered, Quinn was feeling pretty good. Everything was coming together for her.

She had always known heading up to that roof was a good idea, she just hadn't expected it to end this way.

Quinn returned to herself and squeezed Rachel's hands, pleased to find the brunette smiling weakly at her. "You'll be fantastic, Rachel. I just know it." She promised just as a stage hand came to usher her back into the seating area. "Good luck." She said, giving Rachel's hands a final squeeze before they were separated.

"Thank you, Quinn!" Rachel called to her retreating form before heading back to get her hair styled properly.

Quinn made her way off the stage, the kind boy holding her hand as she jumped off the small ledge. The auditorium was starting to fill up, one section blocked off for NYADA staff and students, the rest open to the public.

_Thanks S, I owe you one._

She replied once back in her seat, turning her phone to silent to wait for the beginning of the show.

–––

Though it was only an hour in order to fit in another students play that night, Rachel made the most of it. Quinn was in awe of the whole thing. The sets looked fine - for a first year, they had done a brilliant job. There was a classroom (as boring and vanilla as the real ones at McKinley had been), an oval where the Cheerio's scenes took place, a lounge room (complete with hauntingly accurate Christian symbols on every surface), and a hospital.

Watching Rachel up there was like watching her own life. Finn must have told Rachel all about her for this script to form before they had even met one another. From the smug head cheerleader pose to the heartfelt rendition of Papa Don't Preach (only in Rachel's play this came as Quinn pleaded for her father to help her - a more perfect composition than in real life) to the birthing scene.

Being in the front row was a perfect choice for Quinn because she could hide her watery eyes. A few tears even made their way down her cheek, falling over the knotted hands sitting in her lap. It was hard to sit there and watch someone else's assessment of your life, and Rachel wasn't simply easy on her. There was a brutal honesty to those monologues when she spoke to the audience of her cheating and determination to get what she wanted - no matter the cost.

The struck a cord with Quinn, sitting there, as determined to get Rachel now as she had been to rule the school then.

The play ended, not with Beth's birth or Quinn's graduation, but with a simple scene of her leaving the fictional city Rachel had created. It even came complete with a speech farewelling the backwater town that had done nothing for her her whole life, oddly reminiscent of Quinn's thoughts as she caught the train across country to New York to start again at Yale.

She didn't know if anyone else stood to applaud Rachel's performance - how couldn't they, really? - but it didn't matter. Quinn was consumed in the world that consisted of Rachel, their eyes locked as the brunette took her bow. There was no sound other than Quinn's own clapping and cheering, everyone else falling into the background - not even worthy of white noise. Not in her mind. The only thing that mattered to her was Rachel's wide, toothy smile.

Whether she knew it or not, on that stage Rachel had given Quinn a second chance. She had taken her past and done with it something good, but also honest. There weren't excuses for her behaviour but real reasons. Quinn might not be able to face those reasons aloud, to admit them to anyone, but they were there - Rachel had been her voice.

"Thank you! This was all inspired by someone very dear to me. Someone I'm so glad I met." Quinn didn't notice that she had stopped breathing until Rachel jumped off stage to pull her into a hug, forcing her to choke and stumble forwards.

Into her ear, Rachel whispered a string of thanks.

Quinn tried to convince herself that she didn't fall in love anymore.


	7. six

So Quinn Fabray had well and truly established that she did not simply fall in love.

But what she had with Rachel was certainly  _not_  simple.

They went out after the plays of the evening were done. Rachel didn't intimately know many of the other performers but stayed and watched them out of respect. Following each showing Quinn tagged along as the brunette gave the students an impressive critique. Quinn had come to see this as just Rachel being Rachel, and clearly so had her peers, because they took her praise graciously and her constructive criticism as intended. A few had asked who she was, and Quinn had been happily introduced to them all - she was Rachel's inspiration, her muse, her  _best friend_.

They sat around a bar just near the school. Kurt had shown up with his boyfriend briefly before the duo disappeared into the crowd to dance. "We're getting looks." Rachel noted, leaning over towards Quinn. She did not whisper - rather, spoke at usual volume - but the music meant they had to be in close proximity or the message would be lost.

Quinn had noticed that, too. Sitting by themselves in a booth, closer than just-friends should be (Quinn had just shuffled right on in, no ulterior motives whatsoever), but Rachel hadn't protested. They'd gotten girly cocktails. Quinn had paid - it was Rachel's night. She didn't have much money, but had freed up some funds she'd had tied into an old account.

Her life savings were going to cocktails with the girl she  _didn't_  love.

Quinn had no regrets.

"That's what you get when you let Kurt pick the club." Rachel said a few minutes later, raising one eyebrow at a lesbian couple not too far off dry-humping one another against a table. She didn't seem at all upset or revolted, as some people could be, towards the show of affection. If Rachel really did go out with Kurt all the time, this must be the norm.

Quinn smiled and twirled a toy umbrella in her fingers. "They're probably all looking to take you home." She said, subtly flirting with a sideways smile and her tongue pressed just past her teeth. Rachel's sight dipped down to focus on her movement, before flicking back up to her eyes.

"Really? Whilst you're sitting next to me?" Rachel said, laughing and elbowing Quinn in the side. "Doubtful." And then her mood took an unexpected swing downwards. "Besides, I have a boyfriend."

Quinn frowned. "You don't sound too certain." It wasn't hard to act as if she was sympathetic, despite the fact that Quinn really, truly wasn't.

From her purse Rachel dug out her phone, again sliding it open to check for new messages. "I've been looking forward to this for months." She sighed, as no notification appeared on the screen. "All year. Probably the whole time I've been at NYADA. It's like my last assessment before we get to graduation. He knew that."

They were practically side-by-side, and so Quinn actually struggled to put her arm over Rachel's shoulder and pull her into a sideways hug. "Don't fret. It's your night." Her free hand took Rachel's phone, pushing it back into her sequined clutch. "Enjoy it."

"Thanks." Rachel rested heavy against Quinn's side. "I'm glad you made it."

Quinn rested her chin on top of Rachel's head. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

As Quinn did not dwell on her supposed inability to fall in love, she tried to ignore the giddy feeling at how perfectly her chin fit atop Rachel's.

–––

There were mojitos and martinis, drinks that were like a fruit salad soaked in vodka and others with sugar-rimmed glasses. They tried all of them - or most, Quinn wasn't entirely sure. At one point Kurt had come back and told Rachel to cheer up, dragging her out onto the dance floor.

Quinn had found her hand grasped tightly, and she was yanked rather roughly from the booth, forming a line behind Kurt. She kept a hold on Rachel as if she were her lifeline, weaving through the dancing masses.

Rachel stopped unexpectedly, and Quinn almost ran into her back. She spun around, mouth open and yelling something excitedly. Quinn couldn't hear her, but with enough gesturing to the DJ Quinn understood. Well, mostly. Rachel either liked the song or she wanted to request one of her own.

Judging by the way Rachel dipped under the joined hands of a nearby couple and then disappeared completely, Quinn assumed the later.

Whilst waiting for the shorter girl to return, Quinn found herself the subject of quite a few intrigued looks. One woman, cockiness oozing from every pore and pink hair sitting in a mess atop her head, approached. Quinn smiled at the floor, flattered as she was pulled into a spin and a dip by the unknown lady. She smirked, righted Quinn, and then disappeared just as quickly as she had come.

Rachel stood there when Quinn returned to herself, an amused gleam in her eye. The music that started up from the DJ followed the nightly trend of mostly older music - 80's and 90's. The acoustic guitar instantly registered in Quinn's mind, an uncertain jolt striking her body. "I imagined this was your prom song." Rachel yelled in Quinn's ear, words tumbling over themselves as she endeavoured to finish speaking before the lyrics started. "It got cut from the play, but since I've had my time tonight, we can just pretend this is your turn."

Quinn was baffled, but as soon as she was done with her explanation Rachel dropped back down onto her feet and began to sing. Her voice was enchanting - Quinn had heard her on stage. Right now the loud music dulled out Rachel's powerful vocals which were deserving of a silent, devoted audience.

Being taller, Quinn lead the dance. She didn't really know  _how_ , but most people around them were swaying together so they likely wouldn't judge. "Lead me out on the moonlit floor." Rachel sang, eyes wide and bright. She freed up one hand from Quinn for the next lines. The words ran through Quinn's mind ahead of time, a mental karaoke prompt no child could escape the nineties without - at least not for this song. "Lift your open hand, strike up the band and make the fireflies dance." Rachel vaguely waved her hand towards the DJ in lieu of a real band, and then up to the disco ball that sprinkled squares of light out on all the dancers.

"Silver moon's sparkling, so kiss me." Quinn's mouth was dry, and Rachel obviously didn't know what the exact lyrics she was singing meant until they were out. Shock registered on her fine features. Rachel missed the start of the next verse, but she wouldn't have been able to sing anyway.

With her mouth open and such a proposition hanging openly in the air, Quinn couldn't deny her.

And to her surprise, Rachel kissed back.

–––

When they drew apart, there had been nothing awkward. Rachel had laughed and twirled and danced as if she didn't have a care in the world, as if she didn't have a boyfriend somewhere being painted the bad guy, as if all she wanted was right there on that dance floor with her.

The songs all melted into one another as they danced, close and certainly inappropriate. Quinn couldn't hide her grin. The wind had changed and her facial features now felt as if they were permanently composed in a joyous expression. But she had all the reason in the world to be smiling. Even as Rachel left her arms to go to the bathroom, Quinn danced alone. She was too happy to care that she was moving without a partner. Her body was light, as if she hovered just above the ground, propelled up by the feeling of love. A feeling she would adamantly deny if anyone cast her so much as a questioning glance.

Rachel took a while in the bathroom, and when she returned she looked... devastated. Quinn froze for a second, spying the telltale tear stains on her cheeks. And just like that she sprung back to life, making her way to Rachel no matter who stood in her way. "What is it, what happened?" Quinn's ears rang so much that even out of range of the music she couldn't really hear Rachel's response.

Rachel's mouth worked uselessly for too long, and then she pressed her phone into Quinn's hand. The image of Finn and Santana was on the screen. No message, just the picture. When Quinn's eyes focused on Rachel again she was still weakly trying to come up with some kind of explanation, some kind of  _reason_.

But there was none. Just Quinn.

She hugged Rachel firmly then guided her to the exit. There came no protest from the girl in her arms, but when they stepped into the taxi she clung to Quinn's side. For the whole ride home they were inseparable, clinging to one another in the backseat. Quinn kissed Rachel lightly on the head, smelling the strawberry shampoo she used. It was intoxicating, just like the cocktails, just like Rachel's mere  _presence_.

When they got home Quinn paid and stepped out first. She held a hand out to Rachel who numbly latched on to her once more. They got upstairs to her apartment, slow and steady. Rachel didn't sob loudly, but there were still tears running down her cheeks when they made it into the house - warm and fresh.

"Men are assholes, huh?" Quinn's voice was weak as she brushed away Rachel's tears.

All she received in response was a detached nod.

Quinn slowly moved Rachel to her bedroom. When she made to leave so that the brunette could undress and go to bed, Rachel didn't let go. "Don't you want to sleep?" Quinn said, heart beating a solid pattern against the inside of her chest.

"Don't leave me." Rachel insisted. Her eyes bore into Quinn's, imploring.

"I won't." Quinn gave a brief smile. "I promise."

With that Rachel removed most of her clothing, until she was clad only in the tank she had worn out and her underwear. Quinn slowly followed her lead, undressing in turn. Rachel took Quinn's hand and pulled her into bed.

They tangled together as if they spent every night that way. Quinn lay on her back. Rachel slid one leg over her stomach, head resting just above her shoulder. "Good night, Rachel." Quinn said quietly, watching as the silver moon sparkled outside.

"Thank you, Quinn." Was all the response she got. Rachel did not fall asleep straight away, her tears dampening Quinn's shirt.

Quinn just didn't have the words to say, and Rachel probably didn't want to hear them at that moment.

–––

By the time the sun rose, Rachel had gone. Quinn awoke, first registering the strange bed that was not her own. Then, slowly, she thought about Rachel. Everything that had happened the night before. Inside her feelings were mingled. There was a hope and joy and just the tiniest sliver of regret.

Quinn eventually got out of bed and got dressed. When she stepped out into the main room, Rachel was no where to be seen. She wasn't in the bathroom, nor was she in Quinn's own room. There wasn't even a signature note scrawled on the fridge in whiteboard marker explaining her absence.

Quinn was understandably worried.

But after what Rachel had been through, maybe she just needed time.

So Quinn went through her morning routine. It just wasn't the same with Rachel waking her up and giving her muesli, or - on good days - vegan pancakes. She showered and forewent breakfast, her stomach not really up to eating anything anyway.

Once Quinn was clean and refreshed, she renewed her search for Rachel.

Somehow, instinctively, Quinn went upstairs instead of down. It was the only place she could go. Once out there, in New York City, where would Rachel be? There were thousands - millions - of places that she could have sought refuge. Quinn could guess at a few, but all her hopes rested on Rachel being in the apartment building still. Or, rather,  _on_  the apartment building.

Rachel sat by the safety railing, chin resting on her raised knees, arms holding her legs close to her chest. "Rachel." Quinn called out, ignoring the deja vu she felt as she approached the edge of the roof.

When Rachel turned around, some of Quinn's anxiety disappeared. Rachel's eyes were still red, and she clearly hadn't gone about her morning ritual with her usual meticulous care. Quinn approached her hunched form slowly. Rachel worried her bottom lip with her teeth as Quinn sat down beside her.

"I broke up with Finn." Rachel said, voice fragile in the air between them. "He said he didn't remember what happened. He said he was sorry. I just... can't trust him. He ruined my big night."

Quinn let the words sink in until all that sounded between them was the signature New York white noise. Then Quinn gently reached out to coax Rachel's hand away from her legs, sandwiching it in her own.

At some point getting what she wanted had started leaving a bitter taste in Quinn's mouth.

She swallowed it and held Rachel's hand tight.


End file.
